


Falling Forward

by ifishouldvanish



Series: I Must Be Warmer Now [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, because they need it, fluff for these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-05 00:41:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10293536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifishouldvanish/pseuds/ifishouldvanish
Summary: Gold isn't sure what to call this thing between him and Lacey. But such things usually have a way of working themselves out.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a series based on my RSS 2016 fic, [I Must Be Warmer Now](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8920411). You might want to read that first :)

Mr Gold takes a deep breath and knocks on the door to suite 201. He's been dreading this moment all week. Collecting rent from Lacey for the first time since they started… _seeing_ each other.

He's not sure what to call it exactly. They mostly visit each other's homes, have sex, then stay up until the wee hours of the morning venting to each other about work, their exes, or whatever the latest gossip from the Storybrooke rumour mill is. They don't exactly go out on dates or anything, at least not in town. She’s come over for dinner a few times and he’s driven out to Portland twice more to watch her open mic performances, but that's about it. They’re establishing somewhat of a routine, a safe framework in which this _thing_ between them operates, and if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t like it. But he doesn’t know how or if he even _could_ explain it to her.

The deadbolt clicks and the door swings open, revealing Lacey in her tiny pajama bottoms and a cami, with yesterday's smudged eyeliner and her hair pulled up into her signature messy bun. She looks beautiful.

She leans against the doorframe, her eyes sweeping over his figure while a pleased little smirk tugs at her lips. “...Hey.”

Gold's heart is already racing and his mouth is bone dry. He tries to remember his line. _It's that time of the month, Miss French._ Does he call her Miss French? Or is that too formal? No, no. He's here to collect rent. Nothing more, nothing less. This is business. Miss French it is, he decides.

“...Hey." He says. _Close enough._

Lacey sucks her teeth. “You uh, wanna come in… or something?”

_No. No, no, no. Collect rent. Leave._

“I-If you wouldn't mind,” he says with a light chuckle instead, smiling like an idiot despite himself.

She spins around and struts back into the apartment without a word, and Gold berates himself for standing frozen in place, his eyes focused on her perfect little bottom until she reaches the kitchen counter. He finally shakes it off and follows after her, feeling a blush rise to his cheeks when he closes the door behind him. He can’t wait to get this over with, yet at the same time, he doesn’t want to leave.

She rummages through a stack of papers for a moment before pulling out a worn envelope with the word _RENT_ scrawled across it in permanent marker. She plucks the wad of cash out and counts it quietly to herself before offering it to him. “Here you go.”

There’s a panicked feeling in Gold’s chest as he accepts it from her, but once he tucks it into his breast pocket, he can feel his soul beginning to return to his body.

“Thank you.” He nods, exhaling slowly. “Miss French.”

The smile on her face falters at that. “Yeah.” She mumbles, her eyes sweeping toward the door. “No problem.”

 _Well, that can't be right._ He can feel the giddiness that was blooming in his chest a moment ago shriveling up and wilting into shame. He's definitely fucked something up.

Gold’s mind races for the words he needs to undo whatever it is he's just done, but before he can find them, she shifts on her feet and looks back him again, this time with a rigidness to her features. Her eyes seem to look through him, or into him, and his heart starts to pound in his chest.

“So.” She folds her arms over her chest and leans back against the counter. “What's up?”

“Oh— nothing.” He says a little too quickly. God, he's starting to sweat. “You?”

“Same old.” She shrugs. “You um, gonna be done making rounds soon?”

He stops himself before an automatic _yes_ can jump from his tongue. “Should be done come five.”

“Hm.” She says with another shrug. A silence stretches between them for a moment and she sucks her teeth. “You know... you could uh, come by later. If you want.”

“Right.” He coughs.

“I uh… I was just gonna order takeout and binge rewatch the X-Files or something.” She adds with forced nonchalance.

“I'll ah, consider it.”

“You um—” The hard-edged expression fades from her features, giving way to the soft, tender one typically reserved for their post-coital chit-chats. “You doing okay?” She asks, taking a half-step closer and resting a hand on his shoulder. She gives him a slight squeeze but quickly pulls away, wrapping her arms around herself again.

“Aye, fine.” He coughs, squeezing the handle of his cane. “Just... came by for the rent, ye know?”

She pouts at him and sighs. “Yeah.”

“So, I guess I'll ah... be on my way then.” He tells the floor.

“I guess so.”

He looks back up, ready to flash her a parting smile— but she looks so disappointed again and he can't bring himself to leave because he's clearly doing something wrong. He just can't stand to leave her like this, in less cheerful a state than he found her in.

 _God dammit._ Why is he so terrible at this? _She's trying to make plans with you, you dolt._

He tentatively reaches his free hand out for one of hers, but they're still crossed over her chest, and so it just hovers awkwardly in the air instead. He settles for gently grasping her arm at the elbow, rubbing his thumb over it in a manner he hopes— yet doubts— is comforting.

“I'll…” He pulls back and gives her a weak smile that she returns, much to his relief. “I'll come by around six?”

Her smile widens into something more genuine. “Six sounds good.”

“Good.” He nods. “I'll ah, see you then.” He hesitates for a second, then swallows. _“...Sweetheart.”_

Lacey takes her bottom lip between her teeth, biting back the grin that so badly wants to bloom across her face. With the weight of his uncertainty lifted from his shoulders, Gold feels like he's floating.

The playful gleam finally returns to her blue eyes and she wets her lips. “Sounds good, _baby.”_

Gold knows he’s blushing. He doesn't have much time to feel embarrassed for himself though, before she throws her arms around his shoulders and presses her lips to his. It catches him off guard, and he lets out a surprised little grunt before he reciprocates and slides his arm around her waist.

_Baby._

He never really liked it when Milah would call him that. But from Lacey, it just feels right.

  


Mr Gold collected rent from the rest of the tenants in Lacey's building with a dopey smile planted firmly on his face, earning himself curious stares from each and every one of them. Unit 302 was short $200 and he just told them _not to worry about it._ As he walks back out to the car, he tells himself it’s only because he doesn't have time to explain the particular details of their rental agreement right now, and not because his little exchange with Lacey just has him in _that_ good of a mood and _what's he going to do with another $200 anyway?_

But who is he kidding? His mind has been playing the sound of her voice calling him _baby_ over and over like a broken record, and it makes his chest tingle with anticipation every time. He’s not a big fan of takeout and he doesn’t know what an X-File is, but he can hardly wait until the end of the day so can enjoy them both with her. As soon as he finishes up on 3rd Avenue, he turns onto Main Street and makes a beeline for the florist.

The bell hanging above the front door of Game of Thorns clangs annoyingly as he steps inside, but it’s not enough to sour his mood. Not by a longshot. He’s a man on a mission this afternoon— _buying flowers for his sweetheart—_ and if that means having to deal with Moe French’s poor taste in doorbells, then so be it. He hears the advancing of dragging footsteps and the man emerges from the back room, his friendly service smile slipping from his face when he recognizes his latest visitor.

 _“Gold?_ You already got your money this morning, _”_ he groans. “Every cent! Count it again!”

“Lovely to see you again as well, Mr French.” He says with a forced, polite smile as he approaches the counter. “But no, no… I'm not here for your money.” Surely he can manage to put aside his general distaste for this man for a few minutes. _For Lacey._ He glances around the shop for a moment, then rests his hands on his cane and looks Moe in the eyes. “I'd like a dozen of your finest roses.” He says calmly. “Salmon or light pink, preferably.”

Moe just stares ahead blankly, and he isn't sure if he heard him. Or believes him. Or was paying attention. If there was ever a light behind the eyes of Moe French, Gold thinks, it must have gone out long ago.

“No.” He finally says.

Gold blinks. “...Excuse me?”

“I said no.”

Gold frowns. “Mr French.” He wets his lips and leans over the counter slightly. “A bit of free advice from one proprietor to another: turning away customers— not the best business strategy.”

“I don't care if it's bad for business.” The man bellows. “I'm not selling you a single rose from this shop.”

Gold lets out a little chuckle and glances around the shop again— an irritated, predatory grin spreading across his face. _The nerve of this man._ “Mr French—”

“What does a bastard like you want with my Lacey?”

“You mean it isn't obvious?” Gold scoffs. “After all, you _are_ her father.”

Moe’s face reddens and he looks like he might explode.

“Lacey is an incredibly resilient young woman with a kind heart, vivacious spirit, and  illuminating perspective on life.” Gold explains, taking mercy on him. “I think the better question, Mr French, is why someone like her would want anything to do with _me.”_

Moe scowls at him a moment longer and huffs, his shoulders slouching in defeat. “She doesn't like roses anymore.” He grunts.

That wipes the smug grin right off of Gold's face. He hadn't even considered well… _that._ He feels like an idiot. _Every time he'd hurt me, there'd be flowers the next morning._

“Not since—”

“No.” Gold sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “No, of course not.” Whoever Lacey's ex-fiancé is, the bastard's lucky she hasn't uttered his name once to him. He'd hop the first flight to New York and give him a piece of his mind. Or his cane.

 _For the best,_ Gold tells himself as he takes a deep breath. Assault and battery— _still a very bad idea._

Moe looks down the floor hesitantly and sighs. “...Stargazer lilies are her favorite.”

Gold tilts his head at him. He'll take back every foul thought he's ever had about the man if helps him choose the perfect flowers for Lacey. “Stargazer lilies? How— how might those look with carnation, or hydrangea?”

Moe nods slowly. “I can make it work.”

Gold arches a brow. “It's short notice. I'd like them for tonight.”

“I’m willing to move things around a bit for my daughter.” Moe says firmly, standing tall with fatherly pride. “I can have something ready by five.”

“That would be... _perfect,_ Mr French.”

“I don't know what in God's name she sees in you, Gold.” Moe says. “But whatever she sees, she... _likes it.”_ He admits reluctantly.

Gold knits his brows together. Did Moe just give him his… _blessing?_

“...Thank you.” He says in a whisper, beginning to head back toward the door. He stops halfway and looks back at Moe. “Mr French, I— the last thing I want is to hurt—”

“I know.” He grumbles. “Now go on. Get out of my shop, Gold.”

  


*****

  


Lacey takes a deep breath and a quick look in the mirror when she hears the knock at the door. It has to be him.

She's suddenly regretting having changed into a proper outfit. She even put on lipstick and reapplied her day-old eyeliner. Was it too much? Was she trying too hard? Lacey French doesn't dress up for anyone but herself— right?

 _Calm down,_ she urges herself. She takes so much pride in not worrying about what people think, but when it comes to Gold, that philosophy goes flying out the window. She just likes him _so much_ and she wants him to like her too. He has to like her by now, doesn't he?

He knocks again and she shakes it off. It’s too late now. _Just fucking do it, darling._

She opens the door and Gold looks more nervous now than he did three hours ago. He's wearing the same suit but he somehow looks even cuter than before. It's probably the bouquet of— _whoa._

“For you, sweetheart.” He says with a timid smile on his face as he offers the flowers to her.

“You—” She wets her lips and stares at the floral arrangement, her heart fluttering in her chest and nervous energy boiling in her gut. “You got me _flowers?”_ She asks, immediately cringing at how cold her voice sounds.

A panicked look fills his eyes and her mouth gapes open with worry. She can't find any words but she's slowly beginning to realize there isn't a single rose in the arrangement. Instead, it's a stunning bouquet of stargazer lilies. God dammit Lacey, _thank you—_ you say _thank you._

“It... It seemed the proper th-thing to do?” He explains weakly. “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—”

“No!” She blurts. “No, no!” She looks at the bouquet again and smiles. “No, I just mean— it's… really nice of you.” Her words seem to do little to console him though, and God, why does he put up with her? Stammering, she rushes to accept them from him. “I'm sorry. I'm not used to— I don't know.”

_Not used to anybody thinking I'm worth buying flowers for._

“I know you said—” Gold cuts himself off and shakes his head. “Your father told me they were your favorite?”

“They are.” She assures him with her best smile. “They’re uh, they're beautiful. Thank you.” She just stares at him for the longest time because _Christ._ He didn't just buy her flowers— he went through her _father_ to buy her flowers. That couldn’t have been pleasant. “I love them.”

She takes a moment to admire the arrangement properly. _Flowers. He got you flowers._ She suddenly realizes he's still standing in her doorway and shakes her head.

“Shit, I'm sorry,” she blurts. “Come in.”

He takes no more than two steps inside before stopping and looking at her apprehensively, fumbling with his hands. She doesn't know what to do but then she feels him place a gentle hand on her arm. He leans in slowly and presses a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“You look beautiful.” He says, the apples of his cheeks rounded by a timid smile.

_Oh, fuck this._

Lacey adjusts her grip on the flowers and clasps her free hand on his shoulder, pulling him in hard for a kiss— A real one, on the lips with a bit of tongue, because this is getting ridiculous. And also because every time she kisses him like this, she notices the look of complete, utter surprise on his face and it's kind of adorable. His arm slowly wraps around her waist and he kisses her back. The flowers rustle between them as their hands wander over each other and they deepen the kiss. He follows her touch as she pulls away and smiles when they finally part.

“Thank you, baby.” She says with a finishing peck on his cheek. “Let me find something to put these in.”

For once, Lacey's glad she works at a florist because she intends to make her flowers from Mr Gold last as long as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold has got it bad. So, so, bad.

Enjoying a meal with Lacey certainly beats the alternative of eating alone in his kitchen. Takeout might be comfort food, but the greater comfort comes from having someone to share it with, Gold thinks. At the very least, it gives them some sort of pretext for the evening. Something to  _ do _ while he tries to decipher what this latest progression in their relationship means— assuming he isn't just imagining it. Calling each other pet names for the first time has to mean something, doesn't it?

These are the thoughts that linger in the back of Gold's mind as they watch one episode of  _ The X-Files _ after another, taking turns feeding each other forkfuls of lo mein and vegetable curry until the various little boxes have all been emptied. Sometime after the food is set aside, they begin cuddling on the couch, occasionally sneaking kisses on each other's hands, cheeks, and shoulders. Every time Lacey kisses him, a pleasant feeling blooms in Gold's chest and he can't help smiling to himself. But every time he finds himself kissing  _ her, _ he gets the feeling that he shouldn't. The instant his lips part from her skin, he feels his heart sink and his pulse throbbing in his ears.

Lacey shuts the TV off and sets the remote down on the coffee table. She tilts her head back where it rests on his chest to look up at him. It's much darker without the television's blue-filtered light filling the room, but there’s a warm glow coming from the single incandescent bulb by the front door. It makes her features look so much softer and gentler. Ethereal.

_ God, he wants to kiss her again. _

She sucks her teeth. “So.” She says, “Do you uh, believe?” 

Gold knits his brows together.  _ Believe in what, exactly?  _ Shape-shifting extraterrestrial creatures, climbing through vents to prey upon unsuspecting victims under the cloak of night? Surely she can't be serious. He clears his throat. “Believe what?”

She laughs, and that damn bulb in the entryway reflects in her eyes, making them glimmer like two galaxies speckled with millions of stars.

“That the  _ truth is out there? _ ” She says. “Aliens, government conspiracies, or just… I don't know. That there's maybe something greater going on that we don't know about? _ ” _

_ Oh. Right, right. _

Gold shrugs. “Can't say that I've ever given it much thought.”

“I dunno.” Lacey says, fidgeting against him, getting closer to him. “I feel like there's no way we're alone. There's gotta be something more, you know?”

He combs his fingers through her hair idly while he considers the possibility. Once again, he scolds himself for it. For allowing himself all these little touches. Sure, she lets him touch her to his heart's content after he's sated her in bed and they're both basking in the afterglow of their shared efforts. But this is somehow…  _ different. _ She doesn't seem to mind it though, does she? He squeezes his eyes shut for a second, refocusing his thoughts.  _ There's gotta be something more, you know? _

“...I suppose statistically speaking, it's more likely than not.” He says.

Lacey looks back up at him with a smile, and as adorable as it is, he can't for the life of him figure out what he's done to deserve it.

“...What?”

“You're a Scully, aren't you?” She says, her grin widening.

_ Ah. _

He can feel himself slowly beginning to smile. She seems to have a way of making him do that. She makes him nervous, certainly, but once they start  _ talking? _ All of those nagging thoughts are chased away and replaced with calm. “I’m sorry, is that a bad thing?”

“No.” Lacey shakes her head. “I think I'm a Mulder though.”

“I think so too.” He finds himself saying.

Lacey frowns, seemingly offended by the thought that he could have her figured out so easily. She sits up and looks at him with furrowed brows. “What makes you say that?”

“You called it first, lass,” he winks, “you tell me.”

Lacey huffs and she just looks so cute when she's like this, he can't help but oblige her.

“...Alright.” Gold smiles and shifts on the couch a little, inviting her to lie back down. She settles against him again, her head tucked beneath his chin, and he laces their fingers. “I think... you possess a great amount of hope. Hope that there's more— for yourself, for the world. A dreamer, I should say.”

“Oh.” She studies his hand for a moment, stretching her fingers out between his own and touching their fingertips together. “You uh… you think so?”

“Aye, I do,” he nods. He watches as she lays her hand flat against his, as if to compare their sizes. “Life... throws things at me, good and bad, and my first instinct is to try to rationalize it. Deconstruct it. That whatever I'm feeling, I've no right to. If it's a good thing, it's all just a coincidence. That if I just keep looking, I'll catch the sleight of hand and it will all fall apart. And if it's a bad thing— well, I probably deserved it. But you… you take whatever life throws at you and you run with it. You put a considerable amount of faith in things— in me— that I do not possess. It's ah… quite endearing.”

Lacey's silent for a long moment, her brows knit together thoughtfully, and Gold feels like he'd do anything in this moment to know what she's thinking. “Nah,” she shakes her head suddenly and clears her throat. “I doubt shit all the time.”

He can't really argue that. As he's gotten to know her better, he's come to notice all the little things she does when she's unsure of herself. Nibbling her lip, wrapping her arms around herself, fidgeting, the frequent  _ ums _ and  _ uhs _ in her speech _. _ It breaks his heart to see someone so young and brilliant filled with such doubt, and yet she still opens herself to him so readily. Takes chances and risks, and never half measures.

“That may be so,” he says. “But it doesn't stop you from trying. You might not believe, but… I think you want to. You try to.”

“And you don't?” She presses her lips together, fighting back a smile.

“I suppose I  _ want _ to,” he shrugs. “But I won't let myself.”

Lacey sits up again, turning to face him better. “Not without proof?”

He doesn't know how to answer that. Even if he had proof, he'd probably ignore it because it's so much easier to just keep drifting along to wherever it is that life is taking him. Such was his trajectory no less than a month ago. He's still not sure what exactly compelled him to leave the house that night. But he did, and there she was, telling him there was still hope for him. He's never been the sort of person believes that things happen a reason, but now that he's cuddling on the sofa next to her— feeling so at peace and _ comfortable _ in his own skin— it's incredibly tempting to start. To let himself believe.

But it's  _ one _ good thing that's come out of this whole mess, he tells himself. Perhaps his luck simply isn't as bad as he thought.

“I don't know.” He sighs, glancing away.

It's hardly an answer at all, let alone the one she was probably looking for. But then she climbs over his lap and faces him, her lips pressed together with indecision. Her fingers comb through his hair and she leans in slowly, but with a certain and now-familiar determination in her eyes. Without thinking about it, Gold closes the distance between them.

Her lips are so soft and he can't resist sucking and nipping at them right away, settling his hands at her waist and inviting her to get closer. She pushes herself up on her knees and climbs further up his body before poking her tongue out to trace it along his lips.

Gold's a bit startled by the sound he makes when he opens up and she dips inside his mouth. Lacey always kisses him like she just can't get enough of him and it's one of the most gratifying things he's ever experienced.

There's nothing but the sound of their slipping lips and tiny gasps for breath until she pulls away to lift her shirt up off her shoulders. She tosses it on the floor and Gold's heart thrums in his chest when she shakes her hair out of her face and smiles at him. She adjusts herself into a more comfortable position on his lap and uses her hand to guide his own over her breast. She presses her lips to his again, letting out an encouraging little moan when he starts feeling her through her bra.

Gold has come to find that Lacey is full of surprises and discoveries to be made. She’s so much more than just the scantily clad barfly everyone presumes her to be, and he’s ashamed to admit he used to be among that majority. But now he wants nothing more than to taste every corner of her mouth and chart every inch of her skin with his fingertips. He feels like he's seeing a master painting in person for the first time— overwhelmed by all the small details and humble strokes that make up the masterpiece and how they're so much more than just the sum of their parts. He's still completely lost in her lips when she slowly pulls away, and for an instant he fears it's all just a dream from which he's waking up.

“You taste like curry.” She giggles.

He huffs out a laugh.  _ No, definitely not a dream. _

“So do you,” he says, stealing another kiss. “...Delicious.” He adds with a wink.

“You're so—” Lacey nibbles her lip and shakes her head. “... _ I dunno.” _ She manages before bubbling into a fit of giggles.

“So  _ what?” _ He teases, his mouth curling into a little grin at the sight before him.

“Nothing.” She says with a smile, shaking her head before changing the subject by claiming his mouth again.

It's hard to kiss her back properly when he's grinning as widely as he is, but soon enough he's drowning in her again and the only sensations he can process are those of her lips on his, and he needs more of it.

He sits up and slowly begins guiding her onto her back. She hesitates halfway and he stops, but before his mind can conjure a single word about how everything's ruined and it's all his fault, the look in her eyes changes and she smiles and nods. He splays a hand over her back, supporting her as she lies back for him, and she fidgets into a comfortable position, draping her arms over his shoulders while he lowers himself over her. Her fingers comb through his hair, keeping it out of his face as he dips down to kiss her.

The hand on her back wanders around and over her belly before sliding upwards to palm her breast again. He tugs at the cup of her bra slightly and she nods, arching her back and twisting her arm around to unhook it. He tucks a finger beneath the strap and pulls it off her shoulder, and Lacey wiggles her arm free of it. Pushing it aside, he joins their lips once more, dipping his tongue inside her as he begins tentatively kneading her bare breast.

Letting out a moan, she entwines her fingers through his hair again. She parts her thighs for him in invitation and he accepts, his hand dragging away from her chest in favor of pushing up the hem of her skirt. He strokes the warm apex of her thighs and she takes in a sharp breath. Her sounds grow louder as he builds the pressure, rubbing languid circles against her through the wet and slick fabric of her panties. Lacey draws a staggered breath, and a euphoric little smile blooms across her face as she comes with a silent cry.

He peppers her neck with featherlight kisses as she melts into the sofa. She lets out a deep, contented sigh, and once she's recovered, slowly pulls herself up to kiss him properly— dipping into his mouth and pulling him close, drinking him in. She finally pulls back, gasping for breath and smiling at him.

“...Bedroom?” She suggests.

He nods automatically. “...Aye. Bedroom.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gold and Lacey take a step forward in their relationship. Gold receives a phone call.

There's no talk of exes, anger management classes, or regrets tonight as Gold and Lacey lie in bed together. They instead enjoy a long, companionable silence. It's a cycle of gazing into each other's eyes, Lacey wrinkling her nose at him, Gold cracking a smile, and the two of them chuckling softly before sharing a quick kiss. Eventually the need for more contact takes over however, and Lacey has to wrap her arms around him and rest her head on his chest. He grasps her hand and idly laces their fingers over his belly— and later, when the position ceases to be comfortable, he rolls away from her, gently tugging her arm and inviting her to spoon up behind him.

He seems to have a marked preference for that— _being the little spoon—_ and it makes Lacey smile. Being clutched tightly against someone usually made her feel guarded and constricted. Gold, on the other hand, seems nothing short of safe and content in her arms.

She's been thinking about it lately. How tactile he is, the way he always seems to lean and melt into her touch. That, and what little she's surmised about his childhood— That his father hurt him and his mother was either not around, or simply dead. She can't figure out which and she's not about to ask. If she thinks about it too long, her heart aches so deeply for him. But the knowledge that she can provide this small comfort to him makes her feel useful and wanted and good.

He shifts a little and the ends of his hair tickle her nose. It pulls her out of her thoughts, and she pulls away to brush it aside before nestling against him again. He's so warm and he smells so amazing and Lacey wouldn't mind just lying in bed snuggled up against him for the rest of her life. It's uncharted territory, to say the least.

“Can you spend the night again?” She mumbles into his shoulder.

“If you like.”

She tightens her arms around him and pulls him closer. “Mhmm.”

She never felt this way around Gerard. He’d wedged himself into her life and the two of them just sort of moved forward and that’s what a girl’s supposed to want, isn't it? A guy who shows initiative and commitment who she can depend on. The thought leaves a sour taste in her mouth, though.

He'd _made_ her depend on him. Turned her into somebody she can hardly recognize— someone full of fear and doubt who had no choice but to clutch onto the illusion of security he gave her. The worst part is that no matter how much she distances herself from it all, some part of her will always be that person— The person he turned her into, and it’s such a profound violation because it all happened right under her nose.

Gold clears his throat. “Y’alright?”

Lacey snaps out of her thoughts and realizes she's kind of squeezing the life out of him.

“Yeah.” She says, easing her grip and pulling away from him. “...Sorry.”

“It’s nae bother.” He mumbles sleepily, squirming back against her and closing the space she just created between them. He takes her hand and presses a kiss to it before holding it firmly against his chest, tucked under his chin.

Lacey can't help smiling at the gesture and tightens her arms around him again like he's a favorite teddy bear. She could totally get used to this— to _him._ To the one who spends the night and lets her hold him as tight as she wants. Who buys her favorite lilies for no reason and calls her sweetheart. But he's still so timid, and she's not sure what to make of it.

She takes a deep breath. _Do the brave thing._ “...Hey.”

He stirs and makes a vaguely inquisitive grunting sound.

“Thanks for coming over. And for the flowers. And um… staying.”

“Mhm. M’pleasure.” He fidgets a little and Lacey smiles inwardly at the realization that what she told him that first night still holds true— he’s adorable after he’s had an orgasm. So dreamily content. Open. He touches her without inhibition. When she asks him things, the answers aren't preceded by a beat of indecision.

“Can I uh… can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

She hesitates, loosening her grip on him again as the doubt fills her chest. Takes a deep breath. _No turning back now._ “Just, um… are we— What are we?”

His slowly rolls over to look at her, his eyes wandering around the room as if it might offer a clue.

“I mean... Are we _official_ now?” She asks.

He rakes his eyes over her, blinking himself into wakefullness. “...Officially what?”

“A thing— A couple?” She shrugs. “You know, like... am I your _girlfriend?”_

He raises his brows and his mouth hangs open. He seems completely caught off guard by the idea. “If… if you care to be?”

Lacey deflates at that. She's starting to expect these tepid, non-answers from him. It's a little frustrating, but she knows where they're coming from. You get so used to minimizing yourself, to trying to accommodate everyone else by _letting_ them have their way because it's easier than putting them in a position where they might try to _take_ it from you. After all, she still finds herself giving these types of answers from time to time— it's a difficult habit to break. But she doesn't want to consider _herself_ his girlfriend. She wants _him_ to see her that way. To _want_ her in that way. She wants to be _chosen._

He shakes his head and clears his throat. “Hey— I mean… _Lacey,”_ he reaches for her hand and brushes his thumb over her knuckles, “I-I don't mean— Well, I wasn’t sure if— I just didn’t want to put you in a uh… I don't know. But I was actually hoping that perhaps _y-you_ wouldn't mind if—?”

Lacey's beginning to pick up the little nuances in his reaction, recognizing it as nervousness, yes— but pleasant surprise, rather than apprehension. The warmth in his wide, brown eyes and the way his mouth is hanging open, the corner of it pinched ever so slightly into the tiniest semblance of a smile.

He keeps stammering hopelessly, “I… I just wasn't sure that you would be interested in-in _being_ with me? L-like that? As my... With me as your—” He hesitates to use the word, _“boyfriend?”_

A smile slowly blooms across Lacey's face. _He wants to believe, but he won't let himself._

She lunges across the small space between them, pushing him onto his back, and claims his lips for a quick kiss. “I think I'd like to.” She says, delighted by the expression of awe on his face as she pulls away. “Call you my boyfriend.”

Lacey feels herself blushing at the word. How long has it been since she had anyone she could call her boyfriend? How long has it been since anyone _wanted_ to call her their girlfriend? It fills her with a giddiness she hasn't felt since she was a teenager.

He takes her hand again and laces their fingers together. For a moment, he seems torn between looking at her, or looking away and hiding behind his hair. He shakes his head and chooses her, grinning from ear to ear. “You can call me whatever you like, sweetheart.” He says with an elated little laugh.

Lacey rolls off of him and curls up beside him, resting her head on his chest again. She can feel his heart beating strongly in his chest and it makes her feel so _connected_ to him. “Maybe like… tomorrow, we could go out together? Here, in Storybrooke someplace? Instead of staying in?”

He presses a kiss to the top of her head. “I'd like that.”

“Cool. Cause I mean, I have a pretty awesome boyfriend and I kinda wanna rub it in everyone's faces.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Hm. Well, I suppose I wouldn't mind being caught in public with the most stunning woman in town, myself.”

Lacey can't help beaming at that. The thought that anyone would _proud_ to be seen with her. She pulls away to look at him better and nibbles her lip. “...You uh, you think I'm stunning?”

He answers her by tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, nodding, and leaning in to give her a kiss. It's interrupted however, by the sound of a phone buzzing. He pulls back reluctantly, twisting around to check his phone, and lets out a deep sigh.

“I-it’s Milah.” He mumbles apologetically, sitting up and frowning at the screen.

Lacey rolls her eyes. “What does _she_ want?”

“Ah dunno… but— I-I'm sorry, it could be important. Something could have happened to Bae.”

“Go ahead.” She says with a shrug. But what she thinks is, _it better be important._ As far as Lacey's concerned, that woman has no business talking to Gold at all— and if she's going to intrude on her time with him, she better have a damned good reason for it. Especially if she's going to interrupt them in the middle of a _moment._

He takes the call and tucks the phone into his shoulder, beginning to climb out of bed. “H-Hello?”

The cheerful greeting Lacey overhears on the other end of the line defies her expectation.

_“Hi, Papa!”_

Gold stops pulling the covers away and a smile immediately spreads across his face. “Bae?”

 

*****

  


“H-Hi, son.” Gold says breathily, his hands trembling in disbelief.

His son never called him. Never had any reason to, really.

Weekend plans for visitation were routine and always sorted out before he left to go back to Milah's. Calls to change plans or cancel were rare on her part and unheard of on his. He tried not to take it personally, that his son never called— after all, children always have some excitement, some adventure or another, to occupy their active imaginations all day long, up until the moment they're tucked soundly into bed. Of course, that rationale did little to make him feel better. It hurt to effectively be forgotten, but he could hardly blame his son for that.

“H-how are you, my boy?”

“Goooood.”

“...Good.” He nods to himself, smiling so hard his face is starting to hurt. He glances to the other side of the bed at Lacey, who's biting back a smile and giving him a thumbs up. “That's good.”

“I missed you, and mum said I could call you.”

Gold's mind immediately races to the worst conclusion. His son always sought him out over Milah when he was scared or upset about something. “What's wrong? Are you alright?”

Bae giggles. “I'm fine, papa!”

“Well—” he chuckles weakly, “just making sure.” That answer makes him feel better, but it also stings a little. He’s happy to know his son is doing fine, of course, but knowing his son is fine _without him_ does nothing to quell the constant feeling of inadequacy he feels as a man, a father, a husband, a lover. Visitation may have been improving the past few weeks, but social calls from his son are something he’s long since ruled out as a possibility. How could he dare to hope that his son would want to do anything more than spend the requisite saturday afternoon with him? “I… I miss you too.”

There's a moment of uncomfortable silence on the line, so Gold speaks up again. “How was your day?”

“Good...”

He chuckles again, delighted to hear his son's voice, even if it's one syllable at a time. “Did— Did you learn anything new at school today?”

“Hmm… yeah!” Bae says. “We learned about verbs and nouns!”

“Ah… you'll have to forgive your papa— it's been a long time since he was in school.” His palms are sweating and he has to switch the phone to his other hand so he can wipe them on the sheets. “What are those again?”

Bae lets out another little giggle. The kind of giggle that means he thinks his papa is taking the piss. A smart boy, his son's always been. “Nouns are people, places and things! And-and-and verbs are action words, like running and jumping.”

“Ah yes, I think I remember now.” He smiles and settles back more comfortably in bed, clutching at the sheets with his free hand as if he's trying to keep himself from floating away. “That was a very clear and concise explanation, Bae. Perhaps you ought to get into teaching.”

Bae groans.

“Ah, that's right.” Gold smiles, “You're going to be a footballer. M’sorry.”

His son giggles and Gold's heart swells in his chest.

“In class we had all these cards with words on them, and we had to put the nouns in the nouns bag and the verbs in the verbs bag… oh, and adjectives too!”

“Sounds like quite the challenge.”

“Nope! We got to pick partners and me and Emma were partners and we finished first! It was so easy!”

“I see. You know— fast is well and good son, but it's also important that you be careful and take your time with things so you don't make mistakes.”

“I know…” Bae mumbles sheepishly. “It turns out, a lot of words can be both! We put _jump_ in the verbs bag, but Greg and Tamara put it in the nouns bag and Miss Shirin said we were both right!”

Gold’s jaw clenches at hearing those names. He's wiped away far too many tears that were caused by those bullies. “Greg and Tamara haven't been giving you any more trouble, have they?”

“No.” He answers simply, his tone suggesting a shrug. “Emma shoved Tamara on the playground last time and now she's nicer.”

He tries not to laugh. “I think I might like to meet this Emma.”

Bae gasps. “Can she come over next time, papa?!” He asks eagerly, the question bursting out of him as though it had been weighing on him the entire time.

Gold's cheeks are beginning to grow sore from smiling so much. “Any of your friends are more than welcome to join us as long as—” His heart sinks suddenly and his smile falters. “As long as their mum and dad say it's alright.” He finishes slowly. He feels Lacey's hand cover his, giving him a comforting squeeze.

“Okay!” Bae beams, “I'll let her know so she can ask her mum and dad!”

“...Aye. Do that, son.”

“I will! But papa!”

“Yes, Bae?”

“The signups for the spring season open soon and mum says I can play again this year!"

His son's enthusiasm makes him smile. “That’s wonderful.”

“You can come to my games and watch me, right?”

“I—” Gold hesitates and closes his eyes, hoping Bae can't hear the sigh that escapes him. “I’m not sure, son. I’d love to watch you play. More than anything. But I think that’s... up to your mother.”

“Oh, okay.” Bae says, his voice crestfallen. “...I’ll ask mum then!” He blurts excitedly.

Gold presses his lips into a thin line and cards a hand through his hair. His son asking his friends if they can come over is one thing, but he doesn’t want Bae asking Milah for permission to spend time with him on his behalf. He can already imagine the fallout— Milah accusing him of ‘using’ their son to make her feel guilty or whatever else she might come up with, as if he gives enough of a shite about her to cook something like that up. He just wants to see his son, damn it.

“No, no… you don’t have to do that, Bae.” He assures. “I’ll talk to mum about it. That’s a… grown-up discussion, I’m afraid.”

"Oh."

The line is quiet for a moment, Bae’s voice replaced by a distant one Gold can recognize as Milah's. There's a shuffling sound and Bae comes back.

“Mum says I have to go to bed now.” He grumbles.

Gold glances at the alarm clock. 9:27 PM. “Well, it is past your bedtime.” He says. “And it's a school night.” _Gods,_ how long has it been since he had the privilege of telling his son to go to bed?

“But I don't wanna…” he whines.

“No, no, Bae.” He says as firmly as he can manage, considering how badly he wishes his son could stay up and talk to him all night. “Listen to your mum. And don't forget to brush your teeth, alright?”

“Okay…” Bae sighs. “Goodnight, papa.”

“Goodnight, son. I love you.’

“I love you too.”

“Thank you.” He finds himself saying.

Bae giggles. “For what? I didn't do anything, papa!”

“Oh, yes you did. You made your papa very happy.”

His son bubbles with laughter again. “You're weird!”

He supposes it _is_ weird, thanking his son for returning an _I love you_. But those are so few and far between these days, and the fact that his son is calling him at all out of the blue feels like nothing short of a miracle. It’s on the tip of his tongue to say, “Give me a call again sometime, aye?” But he figures he ought not to press his luck. “Goodnight, Bae.”

“Goodnight, papa.”

Gold holds the phone up to his ear until he finally hears the tone signalling the end of the call. He slowly sets the phone down and stares blankly ahead for a moment. His son _called_ him. His son _missed_ him and _called_ him. He draws in a trembling breath and puts a hand over his mouth.

“You uh, doing okay there?” Lacey asks.

He nods and tries to blink away the tears that are forming in his eyes, but it's no use and he chokes out a sob.

“Oh, baby…” Lacey hushes and wraps her arms around him, pulling him close. “Come here.”

“That was my boy.” He snivels into her shoulder. “My boy called me.”

It overwhelms him— to have his son’s love and the acceptance of this woman he’s quickly come to care so much about. Years of being made to feel unlovable, unwanted, and just not enough, and two of the people who matter most to him— _the_ two people who matter most to him— want him and care about him. Two good things. Two wonderful, beautiful things. Maybe he’s just having a run of good luck, or maybe there _is_ something greater at work. He doesn’t know. But what he does know is that in this moment, he feels so, so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise-- Papafire!
> 
> The next update to this series (or the update after the next) will focus a bit more on Papafire, and _miiiight_ have a "Lacefire" scene. Still working on the outline for that, so we'll see. ;)


End file.
